


Nightmare

by Kaiyo_no_Hime



Category: Ghost in the Shell
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-02-25
Updated: 2005-02-25
Packaged: 2017-12-18 08:42:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/877861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaiyo_no_Hime/pseuds/Kaiyo_no_Hime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Batou's outlook on an important event in his life. Spoilers for Ep 25 of Stand Alone Complex. Rated for description of said episode violence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nightmare

Red lights danced across her face as she turned to me, a smile flickering across her lips. Fire was roaring in the background, dancing all around us as she stepped up the stairs, ever smiling as the wind danced through her hair.

But when he mouth opens, her voice never reaches me. The world turns the air around me into an unmovable soup, and I cannot struggle free. I must watch the scene unfold before my eyes in rapt horror, unable to save her.

Blood sprays through the air, slinging bits of broken shell and hair against my face, across the stairs, and smeared along the pavement where her empty body has fallen. I failed to save her , again and again I see the scene and fail.

"Motoko!" I lurch forward from my bed, the taste of blood still tingling metalicaly in my mouth.

I am quite sure that, had I not been a cyborg, I would have been covered with a cold sweat. And then I could have gotten up, taken a shower, and reassured myself that it was just a dream. When I go into work tomorrow the Major will be there in all of her serious, over demanding glory.

But, even as I feel the soothing spray of the water beating a pattern into my skin, I know it won't be the same. For me she was dead, and in reality, I was unable to save her.

I was unable to stop the bullets from flying home, and no amount of reassuring on anyone's part is going to change that. I was a complete failure, lower than the lowest rookie. It was obvious that I hadn't trained hard enough, I could have saved her if I hadn't been so lax.

There was no beer in the fridge. Again. I seemed to be going through a case a night now, throwing away my pay on a liquid poison that could never get me drunk. There is no alcoholic escape for those machine body and cyberized mind.

The only form of escapism I truly have left now is useless training equipment. What good is an extra pair of weights if they can never improve my performance? An extra set of squats if they will never improve my speed? An extra set of push up if they will not tone my arms or improve my aim?

"I truly am a fuck up," I growled to myself as I collapsed into a ragged chair, flicking on the television to rot away my troubled mind.

My entire life had come down to on point, on tiny pinnacle in the space time continuum, and I had failed miserably. She had died before my eyes, and not even the proof of her ever existing life could wipe the blood off my hands, and out of my mind.


End file.
